the trouble with love
by DaeDreemer
Summary: NS. Book 'verse, set post-prequel. "Running away only works if you don't look back."


**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: This is my first Gossip Girl fic based on book series events and characterization.

* * *

She loved Hanover, she really did, well— mostly anyway; its cobble stoned paths and old world architecture, the way the trunks on the oak trees were carved with the initials of students past and not-so-secret sororities ruled the dorms. She loved the way all the quad's would fill with snow up to your knees and this was more than an acceptable excuse to be late, she loved the warm muffins in the cafeteria and the hot chocolate you could sneak into the kitchen and make yourself – after you'd memorized the security guard's schedule, of course.

And it loved her back, completely she knew. She whirled into it with a smile – ready for a new life, new friends – out with the old and in with the new. Right?

Sure.

Always a giggle in her voice and a daring glint in her eyes, up for a party whenever and an easy laugh at the ready. She took that girl that could always change a mood for the better, affected accents and too many martini's, and she lived inside her, only her – because then there wasn't any time to think of anything else, not with parties to dance at; or to miss anyone at all, not with girls to win over and boys to flirt with; or to send any emails, not with homework to mostly do and teachers to appease.

(But there was still a part of her that slipped out of character, when the dorms were quiet and shadowed and all her new friends were tucked into their beds and there was nobody to giggle with or flirt with, nobody to shine for, when she couldn't stop herself from _missing_ the old, even if it was out – her _best_ friend and her city and her Natie—)

She's on stage, rehearsal; Blanche desperately, pathetically, clinging to the remnants of a past that will not, cannot, ever be again – when he's there.

Just inside the doorway, scanning the groups assembled in the auditorium, wearing Brooks Brothers khakis and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows; he was like a mirage, an echo of her own past, the way Blanche fantasized about times gone by.

Except he took a step forward and his gaze locked with hers and he smiled at her.

She blinked at him, frozen for a breaths time, and then _it's Nate, Nate's here, it'sNate, he'shere, NateNateNATE_ rushed in around her, over her, through her, a monsoon of hopeful disbelief and mounting excitement and pure love. Right then, it didn't matter why he was here or why he hadn't come sooner or where Blair was or anything at all – he was _there_ and that was enough.

For now.

She whirled away; unmindful of the rehearsal she was in the middle of, unheeding of the demands for her attention, ran off the stage almost recklessly, the skirt of Blanche's dress trailing behind her as she launched herself at him, grinning too wide, heart thumping too hard.

He caught her against him, stumbled back a step and his arms wrapped around her as he spun them around once with a low, delighted laugh. "Hey…" he greeted softly, breath warm against her ear. She filled up sight, his hearing, blotted out everything else with her presence – _Serena_.

"Nate, Nate, Natie…" she murmured in quick succession, hid her face against the crook of his neck, her arms tight around him. She breathed him in, fabric softener and freshly cut grass and _Nate_ and this had to last forever, this moment, _them_, it was forever, it had to be, because he'd _come_, just like she hadn't quite stopped herself from dreaming.

_"Young man…"_ the director called behind them, _Who are you? This is a closed rehearsal. You'll have to leave. Miss van der Woodsen, if you would please resume—"_

Serena lifted her head long enough to meet Nate's gorgeous green eyes and then they grinned at each other, in complete understanding and accord.

He kept an arm around her waist and she used a hand to lift up the skirt of Blanche's dress as they ran out of the auditorium and into the sunlight, a chorus of _come back here_'s and _we're not finished yet_'s resounding behind them.

Not finished yet, yeah, that was exactly the idea.

She tripped in the heels and dress anyway, because she kept looking at him, kept watching him look around as they ran, the way he laughed as he steadied her against him, the heat of him at her side.

Heat, there's a good idea.

"Let's get inside," she mumbled breathlessly, took his hand and pulled him with her towards one of the buildings.

They were both shivering by the time she pushed open the doors to the science building. It was late in the afternoon and there weren't any classes going on anymore. The door had barely closed behind them, shutting out the November chill, before she threw herself at him again, hugged him hard and blurted out, "I'm so glad you're here." She couldn't keep it inside her, she was so glad.

He hugged her back just as hard, her soft hair against his cheek and everything was quiet, still, except for their breathing and the beating of their hearts in time with each other. Until Nate laughed and pulled back enough for him to be able to spin her around again, "You look like a cartoon," he teased her as she kicked up her legs and giggled in his arms.

"I'm a fading southern belle!" She informed him giddily.

And he stopped then, arms still around her, gaze fixed on her face. "You could never fade," he told her earnestly.

Serena dropped her feet on the floor with a thud and her heart gave an exultant leap.

Whose wouldn't?

"You think so?" She beamed at him.

"Yeah," his hands smoothed her arms gently, his lips quirked up in a smile. "Never, you're too... bright."

She grinned, studied his face, his beautiful smiling face. "I wanted you to come…" she whispered, moved in closer, snuggled against his chest, "I really wanted you to come."

He held her close, fingers in her hair, "I missed you…" he confessed.

And she tilted her face a little, gaze on the little brown freckles on his nose, "Is that why you came….?"

He looked at her intently, searched his thoughts. "I guess so… I just… I missed you," he said again; and then he rubbed his cheek against her hair, "I missed you so much."

And he had – he'd missed her every single day; even the pot hadn't helped. He'd missed the sound of her voice and all the playful lilts she could give it, he'd missed all her laughs, low and quiet or high and giggly, he'd missed the way she could always make him smile, the way she was so easy to be around, cloud watching or tourist counting or cigarette borrowing… and especially, he missed having her at his other side. He felt unbalanced, like half of him was missing, with only Blair to help him pick his clothes for parties or to read his e-mails or to tell his things to. He'd missed seeing her in her school uniform, the way the skirt rode up her legs and the buttons on the shirt sometimes came loose because she moved around so much. He'd missed the smell of her hair when she used him as pillow and the way she licked her lips when they ate pop-tarts.

(And he'd missed the lowered-lashed looks she gave him while they kissed, the way her lips tasted, the way her skin felt against his, and her breathy, low laughs as they got tangled together under sheets.)

"I missed you too," she whispered back with a happy sigh, her eyes closed, hands fisting around his shirt. But there has to be something else, the thought slinked through her muddled thoughts. There had to be something more. For the dream to be true, to be perfect; there had to be one more thing. "I love you," she murmured, gaze heavy on his face. _Say you love me, Sayyouloveme, loveme._

"I love you too," he murmured back without hesitation, gaze fixed on hers. Serena was an absolute goddess and she was his best friend. How could he not love her? He'd always loved her.

The words felt like they slipped inside of her, filled her up to the brim, and she was breathless suddenly, hazy, like she really was inside a dream. "Yeah…?"

He nodded, touched fingertips gently to her cheek, "Uh-huh."

She melted into him, felt dizzy with the love thrumming inside her, between them, "Oh Nate… then let's just…" she sighed, touched her lips softly to his, "Let's just…?"

And Nate didn't have to be asked twice.

Did he ever?

He pulled her against him more tightly, his lips covering hers, and she moaned into his mouth, kissed him back, let herself sink deeper into the dream.

She didn't know how long they kissed, long enough for her lips to chap and for their teeth to start chattering as they shivered from the cold.

She giggled against his mouth, shaking, lifted her gaze to his, their noses touching, "Where's your coat, huh?"

He grinned as her lashes fluttered against his cheeks, "Where's _your_ coat?"

She bit her bottom lip a little, "I ran out of rehearsal."

"I left it in the car." He shrugged.

She laughed again, felt like she could laugh forever. "Let's go get it."

"Okay."

She lifted her arms and hooked them around his neck, smiled. "Carry me."

Nate felt impossibly mellow, like he'd just taken a really powerful hit of something, like nothing in the world could ever go wrong again, like everything in the world had gone his way and all he had to do was sit back and enjoy it. He smiled, "Yeah, okay." He moved to scoop her up and she giggled again, the sound joyful and bright, and going straight to his gut, making him see Serena-inspired stars.

She squeezed the back of his neck, whispered, "Piggy back ride," and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

His smile widened, "Okay," he said again and then teased, "But s'not my fault when you flash the whole campus, got it?" He tugged on a layer of tulle decorating the skirt of the dress she was wearing for emphasis.

She stuck her tongue out at him and then nudged him around, "You just worry about getting us to the car before we freeze, mister."

"Don't worry…" He knelt a little, glanced over his shoulder at her and kept ahold of one of her hands to help her hop onto his back, "I'll warm you up."

"Ow, Nate, ow…" she giggled, "That's my hair…"

He laughed against her arm, a huff of warm breath as he shifted so she could pull up, "Sorry…" he mumbled, green eyes on her face, not in the least abashed.

She bit her lip and then pressed a fast kiss to his mouth, sent him a shy look under her lashes. They were lying on the backseat of the town-car that had brought him to Hanover, the driver had gone for a walk- per their request, and they'd spent the last half hour under Nate's coat, kissing and touching, slow and sweet, tangled under the coat, heated up, enveloped in each other, and fogging up the windows—they were starting to get a bit frantic now, to pull at each other's clothes now.

Nate stared at her pale pink with white polka-dots bra, the flush of her cheeks, the way her lips were swollen and slightly parted from too much kissing, the heavy-lidded blue eyes roving over his chest, smooth fingers unbuttoning his shirt– _fuck_ he was lucky.

"Wutcha starin at?" She teased and tugged open his shirt.

"You're just… totally beautiful," he breathed, slipped an arm underneath her as he leaned into to kiss her again.

She smiled and kissed back, completely lost in this better-than-a-dream moment. She slipped her heels off and hooked a leg around his hips, arched against him as he found the clasp of her bra and then something buzzed against her upper thigh, rhythmic and distracting, and she shifted, slid up and giggled against his neck.

"S'that your phone or you just happy to see me?" She whispered the old line in his ear.

And he grinned at her, opened his mouth to respond, but the words froze on his tongue when he felt her hand slipping into his pocket, reaching for his phone. He jerked back a little, "Wait, let me—"

But it was too late; she was holding the vibrating phone up in the air, looking at the caller ID.

The screen flashed with _Blair_ and the air around Serena felt abruptly stifling, too heavy to breath, to think in. "It's Blair…" she whispered and turned her gaze to his face.

Nate was caught in the same half-way lying over her, but sitting up position he'd been in when he'd tried to jerk back from her, hair in his eyes and shirt hanging back from his shoulders and he couldn't move with her gaze studying him like that; his mouth was dry and he didn't know what to say, but she was watching at him with ever-widening eyes and he needed to react, "Oh…" he murmured.

_No,_ panic flooded over Serena, _Oh no, no please. Nonono…_ But she could see it in his face, knew the answer to the question before she'd even fully formed the question in her thoughts.

She had to ask him though, she had to— "Does Blair know you're here?"

They were frozen in place, on top of each and half naked, panting a little and still hidden from the world behind fogged up windows. Nate blinked at her, knew this was bad shit. He could see it in her eyes, the way the blue of them was looking liquid-y suddenly, bruised, and he didn't know why, but it made him feel sick inside looking into them.

Guilt, baby.

"Serena," he started, but it was written all over his face and she didn't need him to finish– Blair didn't know, anything.

Blair was in the city, calling her boyfriend to see what he was up to. Serena's breath left her in a rush, tears filling her eyes as she drove both her hands against his chest and shoved him off of her.

Nate reared backwards, caught himself before falling off the seat, eyes wide and alarmed when he saw the tears, "Don't cry," he pleaded, panicked, "Please, don't cry—"

Serena couldn't not cry; _how_ could she not cry? Isn't that what you do when your dream crumbles away? "Why did you come?" She asked again, tears in her voice, "Why did you come if you and…" she trailed off, averted her gaze from him and tugged at the coat to hide behind.

He lifted a hand to her face, "Please don't—"

She jerked away from him. "Stop it!" She shouted, "Stop asking me to— just tell me! Tell me why you came if you're still Blair's boyfriend, huh?"

"I _did_ tell you," he offered hoarsely, hand dropping away from her. "I missed you," he said again, meant it just as much the first time. "I wanted to see you... needed to see you, I couldn't think about anything else but seeing you…" He explained pitifully.

And Serena gaped at him, heart thumping slowly, empty space echoing in her ears. It should be perfect, it's exactly what she wanted to hear, but— "You… Blair's your _girlfriend_," she whispered, throat tight, tears still on her cheeks.

Nate licked his lips. "I know."

It was too hot in the car suddenly, Serena couldn't draw in a breath, couldn't see clearly, she needed to get away. Get away. Get— "Get away…" She pushed at him again, further away from her; pulled coat tighter around herself, searched the interior for the costumes corset they'd discarded earlier. "Get away from me… just…" New tears filled her eyes and she slid off the seat, gave up on the corset, she just needed to get away from here.

"Serena…" he called as she moved to the car door, "Wait—"

Her gaze locked onto his face. "You shouldn't have come. Not if you—" she covered her mouth with a hand to stop the sob and pushed out of the car.

In the cold November air, despite the fleece-lined coat and full skirt, she felt naked, like she'd been stripped of something warm deep inside her.

"Serena, wait…" Nate staggered out of the car, shrugging his shirt back on and with her shoes in one hand. "Don't be… I didn't mean to— please just—"

"You said you loved me!" She whirled around and shouted it at him, hurled the accusation at him. Because you couldn't go around _saying_ that to people unless you really—

"I _do!_" He shouted back, moving towards her, "I do love you."

Oh boy.

"You love _Blair_," Serena countered, shook her head and wiped angrily at her face, "You wouldn't still be her boyfriend otherwise would you?" She demanded with a hand at her hip as she grappled with the anger that was starting to fill her up, it felt so much better than the hurt, the betrayal. Because she'd really thought he'd come because—

Nate came to a stop in front of her. "I… love her too." He admitted helplessly.

The anger didn't hold up, it melted away under the assault of unfairness those words triggered,"You can't do that!" She cried, "You can't have us both! That's not—"

"But it's always been the three—"

"But not anymore!" She stumbled backwards, had to move away from him, because he looked so baffled, so endearingly distressed, and she couldn't let him do this, it wasn't _fair_.

"It's not like that anymore! You can't—you can't have us _both_. We _love_ you and it just—" the tears made a reappearance then and the anger disappeared entirely. "It isn't fair," she whispered heart-brokenly, hurt so much for all three of them suddenly. It wasn't fair.

Nate stared at her, felt like he was pushing up against a wall he couldn't quite see. "I don't know what you want me to do."

And she shuddered, so cold all of a sudden; dropped her head, chin against her chest. She knew what he had to do. Maybe they all knew.

"Just…" she sniffled, ran over the words in her mind, the words she should say: _Just choose_.

"Just give me my shoes…" she mumbled, held out a hand without looking at him. She couldn't say it; she was too scared to say it.

Nate held on to the shoes when he put them against her hand, he didn't want to see her leave like this – not upset with him and with tears on her face.

But she looked up at him through wet lashes and felt another sob building up. He was so perfect, his golden brown hair wind-swept and tragically woeful green eyes fixed on her. It wasn't fair. "Let go," she whispered.

_Let go_.

"I'll walk you to—"

"No," she tugged on the shoes, "Just… let go." _Let me go_.

He couldn't do it. She looked so _sad_, pale blonde hair loose and falling around her face, bottom lip quivering faintly. He took a deep breath and his other hand came up, covered hers. She felt cold, shaky, and he stepped closer, "Tell me how to…" he swallowed hard, the evening's wind blew around them and he shivered too, stared into her blue eyes. "I love you," he repeated, lost in her gaze, "Why is that wrong?"

She couldn't stop herself, she moved in closer to his warmth, his scent, _him_. "You just…" she tilted her face up to his, "You have to love me _best…_" she whispered back.

He opened his mouth to say, _I do_, because he did. Probably.

But her finger tips were over his lips then, silencing him, "Love me best," she repeated, her gaze fixed on his steadily, _please Natie, please._

He blinked. "I—"

She leaned in and gave him one last kiss, one for the road, one for her dreams tonight, meant to warm them both up, before pulling back and taking her shoes with her.

She ran away, wrapped in his coat, with her long blonde hair and silly tulle skirt trailing behind her.

* * *

.tbc.


End file.
